A Petal of Denial and a Splinter of Truth
by theunemployedphilosopher
Summary: Multiple political murders have been occurring all around the Hyde Park area, all with different causes of death. Sherlock brings John along with him as he tries to find the culprit. (Timeline is after A Study in Pink).
1. Chapter 1

221b Baker Street looked solemn and lonely in the bleak weather that now settled onto its details. Heavy, relentless clouds and rain that would occasionally pour and then more commonly patter at the city's windows were persistent all that day as Sherlock noticed. Of course there was very little he didn't notice, as anybody who's met him understands. John was settled quite comfortably in an armchair by Holmes's couch, blogging about his flat mate's habits after he solves a case, and sipping a cup of earl grey happily. Sherlock, wearing his pajamas and his deep crimson silk robe, was draped - as he almost always is after breakfast – on his 'thinking' couch.

"The one-eyed man did it." Sherlock yelled from his position, taking John by surprise who jumped a little and spilled tea on his keyboard.

"Goodness, Sherlock! What are you on about?!" Watson cried, frowning and wiping down his laptop with the sleeve of his jumper. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John as if he was speaking a different language, or wondering how his precious little mind could be so narrow minded sometimes.

"Come on, John" Sherlock sighed, "slight smell of strawberry soap in the man's hair, the almost imperceptible limp, the detection of small blond hairs on his shirt. Do you actually_ see_ anything when we interview these pedestrians?" He added shortly.

Watson scowled over at the grumpy consulting detective; he knew Sherlock could be abrasive at best in the mornings. "All right," he said, straining patience. "Are you talking about the case with the hysterical wife or the…" Sherlock jumped up from his couch and ran a hand through his tousled hair.

"NO, no, no, no, the rabbit disappearance case of course." Exclaimed Holmes as he started to pace the floor of 221b, his hands folded behind his back. Watson placed his cup of tea on the side table and a hand to his head trying to mentally follow his friend, Sherlock could be both incredibly impressive and incredibly annoying at times.

"Didn't you say that case was, um…I think you said: 'an example of the petty differences of preconceived human societies rules and regulations'?" John took his hand away from his eyes and led his gaze up to Sherlock, he was staring back at John. Something about the way that Sherlock was just standing in front of him, hands still behind his back, staring at him softly but with his piercing, blue eyes, made Watson feel as if there was something Sherlock was hiding. Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Yes, of course I said that because it _is _an example of the petty differences of preconceived human societies rules and regulations." he sat back down on his couch with his elbows on his knees, eyes closed and rubbing his temples slowly. Watson shook his head, '_what is he going on about?' _he thought.

"Uh, right then. So, um… do you want me to tell the old lady that the rabbits she owned were kidnapped by the one-eyed man?" He said, trying to stifle a laugh. Sherlock opened his eyes and placed his fingertips on his mouth, concentrating on the opposite wall.

"The one-eyed man and the old woman were having an affair, but of course he only pursued a relationship to gain entranced into her financial accounts, the rabbits were a way…"

Before Sherlock could finish his examination of the one-eyed, rabbit kidnapping case, there was a knock at the door and Detective Inspector Lestrade strode into the apartment followed by Mrs. Hudson.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Lestrade to see you Sherlock…" She exclaimed. Sherlock looked up and nodded.  
"Yes, thank you Mrs. Hudson I do see that." Sherlock added smartly, which earned him a '_tut tut' _and sharp glare from her.  
"I also wanted to ask if there was anything wrong with the heating up here; it seems to be malfunctioning downstairs. You know I'm not your housekeeper." She said with a raised brow. Watson looked to her after giving Sherlock the _'stop being an ass' _glare.  
"We know Mrs. Hudson, and the heating is just fine, thank you." Watson said sweetly. Mrs. Hudson smiled and left the three men to talk of things she'd rather not be involved in.  
"I got a call from your brother, Sherlock." Lestrade admitted as he sat in a chair by Watson. "He said he wanted to talk, but you never pick up your phone." Sherlock drew his robe tighter around him and cocooned himself into the couch again, turning his back to Lestrade.  
"I don't talk to insufferable prats." He mumbled so low that Lestrade had to strain to hear him. Watson took a sip from his tea and then grimaced as he realized that it was now cold, he left to reheat it and offered some to the Inspector who turned it down politely.  
"He wanted you to call him back as soon as you can, but that's not why I'm here." Lestrade continued, "Scotland Yard has been receiving reports on multiple murders all centered around the Hyde Park area, yesterday we found the body of a German diplomat, beaten up very badly and stabbed multiple times along his spinal column. The only link to all of these murders is that the victims are exclusively politicians." Lestrade paused and placed a folder on the table in front of an alert Sherlock. He picked it up and perused the pages like a ravenous hound, leaping at the chance to glean information on a new case. After spending five minutes in silence, Sherlock flung the folder on the table, stood up and started to pace the floor of the flat.  
"Sherlock, did you find something?" Watson asked him. Sherlock waved his hand dismissively and continued pacing. Another long length of silence where Lestrade and Watson watched him, waiting for the indication of conclusion from Sherlock's features.  
"We shall need to examine the body of the German diplomat, inspector." Holmes finally ceased his pacing and faced the two men still sitting. Lestrade nodded and picked up the folder, "the body's at St. Bart's," he told Sherlock. After Sherlock changed into proper trousers, the men all took a car to St. Bartholomew's morgue. They found Miss Molly Hooper hovering over a corpse with multiple gashes, she didn't hear them walk in and jumped causing a tray of various surgical instruments flying.  
"OH! Oh dear, s- sorry, I didn't hear you." Molly smiled shyly and bent down to pick up the mess; Watson helped her as he saw that Sherlock wasn't going to.  
"We're here to see the body of Gustav Hamburg Molly, if you please." Lestrade requested, he put his hands in his trench coat pockets and watched Holmes out of the corner of his eye. "Of course, he's just over here," she indicated to one of the many body drawers and led them there. "His examination was interesting to say the least." She pulled out one of the drawers and lifted the sheet off of a very stout, bearded man.  
"Why was it interesting Molly?" Lestrade asked; his brow furrowed.  
"For one thing, he had multiple bone fractures, but the weird thing about it is that they are identical to each of the other Hyde Park victims." Molly said. Sherlock was looking closely at Hamburg's body, paying special attention to his neck and collar bone area; John was standing directly behind him trying to peer over his shoulder. "But they all had different ways of dying?" John spoke up. Molly nodded and pointed to the deep purple bruises around his neck.  
"Mr. Hamburg was strangled, but there's been poison, forced hanging, slit throats… oh yes and of course the always popular gunshot victim."  
Sherlock asked to see the slit on the man's back. It wasn't a large cut, about two inches long and perpendicular to his lower spine. This made only a slight visible impression on Sherlock, "ah, yes of course." He sighed. Lestrade sent a questioning look to Watson.  
"What do you notice Sherlock?" John asked him, but he knew by the way Sherlock's brows creased that they would get no answer from his companion. Holmes left the morgue abruptly only yielding to give an appreciative nod in the general direction of Molly. Watson tried to keep up to the fleeing detective; he would have to start getting fit again if Sherlock kept running about like this. Watson followed him to where he stopped by the waiting car, and noticed how his face took an appearance of examination; as if Holmes was waiting for something to happen.


End file.
